


Enduring

by gryffindormischief



Series: Fresh Pickled Toad [72]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Halloween, Married Life, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: The Potters on a typical Halloween.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I have had this floating around in my head for a while and I wanted to get it out for Halloween, which I did woo! Little slice of Potter family life. I probably won't update Coquettish for a few days, but I do have plans for a third part! Hope you all enjoy this one :)

Harry wakes to tiny feet inches from his face, round, chilled toes wriggling dangerously close to his unprotected and highly vulnerable nostrils. The lack of movement apart from said wiggly toes indicates his bedfellow is still asleep and definitely not James, although the telltale birthmark on the left bony ankle confirmed it was his second son easily. Using his one cracked eye to determine the cleanliness of Albus' foot, Harry mentally shrugs and pulls it toward his mouth, placing an affectionate kiss on the balls of his son's still smooth sole.

Ever the light sleeper, Albus' head appears somewhere around Harry's knees, traditional Potter hair rumpled even more in sleep, his green eyes still foggy, cheek bearing the imprint of wrinkly sheets. Blinking slowly as he attempts to recall where exactly he fell asleep last evening, Albus' face eventually lights up with recognition, before he scoots up the bed, legs scrunching and unscrunching as he drags his bum toward his father's head.

Eyeing Ginny's still sleeping form, she'd been up 'til a hellish hour putting last minute touches on the kids' costumes, Harry reaches back, and pulls the duvet and sheets up, ushering his youngest underneath the covers. Once they're settled, noses inches apart, two dark heads sharing one pale yellow pillow, Harry rubs a warm hand up and down Albus' back, "Sleep ok mate?"

After letting out a yawn and rubbing his eyes with childish fists, Albus nods, snuggling closer until their noses _do_ touch. Harry's eyes cross as he tries to hold his son's gaze, as his sleep grizzled voice rumbles quietly, "D'you want to talk about the dream?"

Shaking his head, Albus slips one hand up between them, running smooth fingers over the angular planes of his father's face, his index finger eventually finding and lingering over the faded scar Harry still habitually hides beneath his fringe. Understanding flashes across the older Potter's face for only a moment before he brings Albus' hand down to his mouth for another kiss, "You know everything is safe now, right?"

Realistically, Harry knows there is _always_ danger, particularly in his line of work, but aside from the fact that this type of caveat is less than comforting to a four year old, he knows first hand what _real_ danger, the kind Albus was worried about, the kind that sent witches and wizards into hiding and nearly destroyed their world, is firmly in the past. Of course there's always potential for a new tyrant to make a grab for power, but Harry rests in the fact that he'll be the first to know, and allies like Kingsley are far from the complacency that perfect storm of a ministry exuded at the height of Voldemort's oppression.

Albus hesitates for a moment, before nodding jerkily against the pillow. Harry pretends to believe him, knowing pressing the issue directly only works with his eldest, and muses aloud, "We told you so you could hear the _truth_ , Al, since everyone's talking about Halloween and what happened."

In reality, he and Ginny had tried to deliver a slightly more child friendly version for the boys last night after a few unwanted encounters from various members of the press wanting Harry's statement on the eve of the anniversary of his first defeat of Voldemort. In the past, when things came up, the boys were young enough that they'd decided addressing what happened so many years ago could be delayed. But that time had apparently run out, as both boys cornered their parents when the foursome arrived home, barely out of the floo.

Ducking his head, Albus fingered his lip thoughtfully, baby hairs sprayed across his brow furrowed in thought before he seemed to reach a decision, tucking his head beneath Harry's chin, still chubby fingers gripping his father's worn t-shirt, "I dreamed somebody came to the house. Came after you."

Harry buried his nose in Albus' dark locks, "Nobody is coming after me anymore, and you know how you like to watch Uncle Bill and I work on the wards once a year, right?"

Albus hummed, nuzzling closer as Harry continued, "Well even if someone _did_ come, they can't get through those. But they won't come. We caught the bad guys a long time ago."

With a sigh, Albus releases his death grip on Harry's shirt, relaxing into the comfort of his father's embrace, ear pressed over his heart. Harry lets the silence rest for a collection of moments, alarm clock ticking steadily, before he speaks again, "You know, you could've slept up here with me and mum. Don't have to sleep by our feet like Uncle Charlie's dog."

Harry's ears strain to hear Albus' mumbled reply, before he gives up and tugs the youngest Potter back up to eye level, "Say that again?"

Bashfulness apparently overcome, Albus' eyes blaze with a steely determination so like his mother, "I wanted t' protect you n' mum. Watch the door."

Shifting from the far side of the bed tells Harry his wife is now awake, feigning sleep to give father and son a moment to finish their conversation. He'd have to ask later just _when_ she woke up.

Brushing slightly a sweaty and overgrown fringe from Albus' forehead, Harry smiles softly, "That was very brave of you."

Albus shrugs one shoulder awkwardly before threading his arms around Harry's neck, warm breath spreading over his neck. Ginny apparently decides she's allowed to show herself and slowly rolls to face them, one hand slipping from beneath the blankets to rub Albus' back comfortingly.

He startles at the unexpected contact, before rolling on his back, head tentatively cradled in the crack between their two pillows as he takes in his mother's face, "Hi mum."

"Hello, love," Ginny answers, placing a kiss to his brow, "Why don't you see about waking your brother and watch telly in the den? We've got a big day today, yeah?"

Dreams forgotten, Albus kicks at the covers haphazardly, dragging them down as he crawls to the foot of the bed, vaulting down the hallways toward his slumbering brother.

Once Albus has left, Ginny cups Harry's cheek, a smirk playing on her lips, "We're all safe now, eh?"

Harry grins back, "Relatively speaking."

Despite his inhibited eyesight, Harry's mouth goes dry as Ginny props her head on her hand, the partially buttoned top that matches his striped bottoms gaping to reveal glorious swathes of her freckled chest, only the most scandalous places remaining hidden.

She slides her free hand across the space between them, blinking slowly, "Relatively?"

"Yeah," Harry breathes as her fingers slowly walk up his chest, " The er- Aurors have been-"

His reply is cut off by Ginny's warm lips pressed over his, her tangled locks brushing his cheeks, then falling in a curtain around them as she shifts to straddle his hips. A chain of slow kisses brings Ginny's mouth to his ear where she whispers breathily, "Well you _must_ tell me how to thank them."

Letting his hands run over Ginny's legs and further, until they're comfortable situated beneath her shirt and kneading her shoulder blades, Harry nuzzles her jawline until her lips come back to his with a sigh. As her hands shift from flanking his temples to the buttons running down her front, lips never leaving his, two pairs of footsteps thunder down the hallway, thumps and two grumbling voices indicate a less than amicable pair of brothers.

Ginny drops her face to his shoulder, "Reconvene this evening?"

Harry lets out a groan, moving his hands to a more respectable location and pulling her top back down as she flops back to her side of the bed and the boys barrel into the room, coming to a halt near their feet, both scowling. Taking a deep breath, Harry swings his legs over the side of the bed, pushing off the edge and ushering his sons back to the den, "How about _I_ pick what we watch."

With a smirk Ginny smacks his bum and strolls toward the loo, "I'll be down in a mo' Potter."

Shooting a wink over his shoulder, Harry follows the boys to the first floor, feet chilled on the hardwood floors.

The rest of the day was spent lazily, beginning with a full breakfast as the small family gathered around the table, the youngest waxing poetic about their candy prospects that evening. After a few attempts at traditional trick-or-treating, which resulted in nervous parents and too many close calls on the statute of secrecy, the various Molly and Arthur offered to host Weasleys and Potters for an evening of party games, feasting, and seasonal treats.

This resulted in the formation of a costume contest between the cousins and a standing offer from the elder Weasleys to host a sleepover for all the grandchildren, which was accepted eagerly.

As the sun is setting, the boys secret themselves in their bedrooms, presumably to festoon themselves in spooky garb for the evening's festivities. Harry's newly socked feet slip a little as he pads toward the kitchen, where Ginny is pulling a pumpkin pie from the oven, waving at it with her recently removed oven mitts as steam rises from its smooth burnt orange surface in tendrils.

Harry wraps his arms around her waist, the back knot of her pale green apron poking his belly familiarly as he kisses that spot behind her ear, "Smells great Gin."

Ginny lets one hand reach behind and slide around his neck, kneading the ever-tense tendons, "I try."

As he works his way down her exposed throat, Harry asks, "What did the boys decide on for costumes? I thought James said zombie?"

Laughter rumbles through her, "Correct. Apparently zombies are big this year. Make sure you don't call him an inferius. He's very particular."

Harry smirks against her cheekbone, "Noted. Zombiepocalypse."

Shifting the pie to the cooling rack, Ginny chuckles, "But Albus has been fairly secretive about it."

"More than usual?"

With nimble fingers, Harry untied the knot at the small of Ginny's back, lifting the loop over her head, loose curls escaping from her updo in the process, "James and some of cousins all made theirs, but Albus is being particularly cagey."

Harry swiped a finger through the mix bowl Ginny'd used to make the pie filling, "Is he making it himself?"

Ginny bit her lip thoughtfully; "I think he got Hermione in on it."

"That's a clue," Harry hummed, offering Ginny a dollop of filling from his finger.

Brow quirked, she leaned forward and swiped it from his finger, maintaining eye contact, "He said it's very scary."

Just then, James appeared in the doorframe, Harry pulling his hand back and licking the remaining filling from his fingertip as Ginny placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, "You look terrifying love."

James grinned behind his gruesome and pale mask, uneven teeth, crooked eyes, and various unidentified innards spilling from various parts of his costume.

Harry nodded, hand moving to ruffle James' hair, but stopping his inches away at the quite convincing growl that emanated from his son.

Hot on his heels, Albus strolled into the kitchen wearing an old pair of Harry's glasses, sans lenses, a bland button up shirt, tie and dress slacks all topped off with slicked hair, and a calculator.

Ginny's eyes darted to Harry's each biting back laughter as Albus stated matter-of-factly, "I'm an accountant."

The eldest Potter son's eyes got a dangerous glint as his mouth dropped open to deliver what was no doubt a withering review of the costume.

"You look great Al," Harry cut in shooting a glare at James, who looked somewhat sheepish.

Undeterred, Albus continued, "Uncle Ron said it's the scariest thing."

Smoothing back his distressingly crispy hair, Ginny pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, "Grandpa is going to _love_ this."

Tucking the cooled pie and the various accompanying accoutrements carefully into a basket, Ginny secured it in place with a few towels and slid the handle over her arm, "Off we go boys."

After flooing to the Burrow in shifts, the Potters finally all arrived and spilled out into the yard, where the festivities had just begun.

The veritable legion of Potter and Weasley cousins descended on Ron and George, who were holding court at a picnic table set up for this evening particularly, various new and as yet un marketed Wheezes spread across its surface, waiting for their grabbing hands.

As Harry and Ginny stepped out into the grass, Molly swept by, hugging and kissing and pinching before she bustled away, taking Ginny's basket with her toward the buffet table. Harry pulled Ginny in closer, fingers gripping her waist just enough to prompt her questioning glance, "Alright Potter?"

Harry had a slightly far off look in his green eyes, orangey light from the floating lanterns glinting off of his glasses. He ruffled his hair with a smirk, an echo of another Potter, gone so many years ago, the crinkle around his eyes reminiscent of a certain _other_ Potter. Little ticks and fingerprints of the past emblazoned on everything about him, with so few remaining to recognize them. Smiling slightly, he presses his lips to her forehead, breathing into her hairline as he watches their boys duel with false wands and dissolve into childish laughter, "Yeah, we're alright."


End file.
